


Fighting Against the World (With You By My Side)

by afterthenovels



Category: Glee
Genre: BadBoy!Blaine, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Skank!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4249512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterthenovels/pseuds/afterthenovels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bruises don't even hurt that much when you have someone who will always take care of you.</p><p>(Mostly just what it says in the tags. :D)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Against the World (With You By My Side)

**Author's Note:**

> For [Michele](http://mattyymurdock.tumblr.com), who has her birthday today! Happy birthday, dear! I hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ♥
> 
> Warning for references to homophobia, bullying and small injuries. Nothing graphic, though.

The doorbell rings just as Kurt is making the finishing touches on his new shirt -– it didn’t have enough artful stains and scuff marks on it for his liking –- and he groans out loud, dropping the shirt on his desk. It better not be Quinn with another boy problem that she needs to rant about. In Quinn’s world boy problems are actually Puck problems, full of _what if_ and _did he fucking mean that_ and _Kurt, do you think I should give him a chance_ , and Kurt is so not in the mood for listening to one of those right now.

He already endured one of her rants earlier today at school, while they were wasting time under the bleachers during Spanish. It was more than enough. Sometimes he just wants to lock those two in a room together and let them work things out without all the unnecessary drama.

The doorbell rings again, somehow managing to sound more insistent this time, so Kurt pushes himself up from his chair with another groan and starts walking towards the front door. His dad is still at work, pulling a long shift because one of the other mechanics had to call in sick today. Kurt only agreed to let him work overtime when his dad promised to take enough breaks and eat his healthy snacks, but hopefully this won’t become a habit, not when his dad’s heart is still not as strong as it used to be. Carole is at work as well, and Finn is... somewhere. Probably with Rachel, doing things that Kurt does not want to know about, thank you very much.

The ringing echoes through the house one more time just when Kurt is reaching for the door handle, and he cringes at the loud noise.

“Alright, alright!” he yells back, pulling the door open. “What the hell is-– _Blaine_?”

The annoyance drops away in the blink of an eye, leaving Kurt gaping at the sight in front of him, his heart suddenly feeling heavy and pained.

Blaine gives him a smile that has a hesitant edge to it, only visible because Kurt knows what to look for under Blaine’s well-practiced cockiness.

“Hey you,” Blaine drawls, obviously going for casual.

“What the hell happened to you?” Kurt demands, instinctively stepping closer and feeling his hands curling into fists, ready to punch anyone who has hurt Blaine.

Blaine, who has a split lip and a black eye, the area around his left eye looking swollen and sickly yellow in some places, like it’s just starting to bruise. There’s a small cut in his hairline, almost hidden underneath his messy curls, and when Kurt looks down he notices that Blaine’s knuckles are bruised as well, angry red against the natural tan color of his skin. Even the leather jacket he’s wearing looks rumpled, like he has been rolling on the ground in it.

Blaine winces at the loud tone of Kurt’s voice and waves his hand through air. “It’s nothing, really. Just some cuts and bruises, don’t worry about it.”

Kurt straightens his back and narrows his eyes. “Who was it? Tell me who it was.”

He’s practically seething. This isn’t supposed to happen, not anymore. That’s what the clothes and the attitude and the tattoos and piercings are for: for looking like someone people don’t want to mess with, for being something else than the obligatory gay kid who gets thrown into dumpsters. That’s why Kurt skips classes and hangs out under the bleachers with the skanks, why he has let everyone think that he’s committed petty crimes and couldn’t give a rat’s ass about school or anyone else –- when in reality he still keeps his grades up and hugs his dad good morning every day. That’s why Blaine stopped gelling his hair and started boxing and wears a leather jacket, why he punched an annoying jock in the face that one time in the middle of the cafeteria, and why he lets people assume that he’s committed petty crimes as well.

It’s all done so that things like this, bruises and cuts and a smile that looks more like a grimace, wouldn’t happen anymore.

“Kurt,” Blaine sighs. “It’s fine, really. I got in a few punches as well. Take a look at their faces tomorrow, you’ll see.” He glances behind Kurt’s back, suddenly looking tired. “Can I come in? My mom’s away for a few days and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Kurt’s hands loosen, the anger replaced by something softer and gentler. It somehow warms his heart to know that this is the first place Blaine thinks of in a situation like this. Their relationship is still relatively new, and they haven’t told almost anyone about it –- only Quinn, Puck, Blaine’s mom and Kurt’s dad know about them, and they’ve decided to keep it that way for as long as possible. Another way to be something else to the jerks at school. But despite the short time they’ve been together, they’re still... serious. Serious in a way that sometimes overwhelms Kurt.

Blaine shuffles his feet when he doesn’t answer immediately. “Or... are your parents-–”

Kurt shakes his head, stepping aside. “It’s just me. Come on, let’s deal with that split lip.”

He leads Blaine through the house and into the bathroom next to his own room, glancing at him from the corner of his eye every now and then. Blaine doesn’t look dejected, but he is quiet, staying silent when Kurt opens the door and gestures for him to sit down on the toilet lid. Usually when he’s around Kurt Blaine is chatty, even more than he is around anyone else, talking about school and his dreams and the songs he’s been learning to play. This silence, however, is unnerving. Unfamiliar. They talk to each other about everything, and Kurt knows that when Blaine goes quiet, something might be really wrong.

He watches as Blaine shrugs out of his battered leather jacket and bites his lip when he notices the fresh bruises on Blaine’s arms. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Those look really painful.”

Blaine touches the skin around his eye and grimaces. “It hurts,” he admits. “But I’ve had worse.”

Kurt’s heart clenches inside his chest. He doesn’t know what to say to that. Blaine has told him some of the things that happened at his old school, the one he went to before he transferred to McKinley, and Kurt can guess the rest of it.

“Blaine...” he starts, worriedly moving closer. “What happened?”

Blaine looks up at him and smiles, a small upward curve of his lips. “I’m fine, Kurt. These will heal in no time.”

Kurt sighs and pushes a few pink strands of hair away from his forehead. He hates it when Blaine gets stubborn like this, even though he knows that he himself can do the same thing as well; evade and stay quiet so that no one will worry about him too much, pretend that he can handle everything by himself. Desperate for something to keep his restless hands occupied he turns around and starts pulling the first aid kit from the cabinet, busying himself with getting the cotton pads and antiseptic within his reach.

He can feel Blaine’s eyes on him, and when he turns around and sits down on the cold tile floor Blaine is already offering his hands to him, trusting him with them. Kurt swallows roughly before taking them in his own and gently running his fingertips over the knuckles.

“It’s not that they won’t heal,” he says quietly as he reaches for the antiseptic, “it’s that they’re there in the first place.”

“I know,” Blaine replies, and somehow his voice is still impossibly soft.

Kurt frowns at Blaine’s hands. He would much rather see them strumming a guitar, resting over the keys of a piano or holding his own than like this, beaten and bruised, bearing the marks of something that shouldn’t happen.

“This might sting,” he adds and takes a cotton pad from the pile on the counter.

Blaine flinches and hisses quietly when Kurt starts cleaning the skin of his hands, but otherwise he stays still. After a moment his fingers curl closer to Kurt’s touch as if on instinct, reaching out for him in the smallest possible way.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore”, Kurt goes on, the anger making his voice tight and biting. “I thought we were both over this already, that they weren’t going to touch us anymore. I just don’t understand why–-”

“I started it,” Blaine interrupts.

Kurt’s head snaps up, the soaked cotton pad almost falling from his hand.

“I mean, technically they started it,” Blaine amends, squinting his eyes in thought, “but I did throw the first punch. Then it was pretty even until Coach Beiste pulled us apart.”

“Why on earth would you-–” Kurt shakes his head, pushing the cotton pad a little too aggressively against Blaine’s knuckles, making him hiss again. “You said you wouldn’t get into fights anymore. You _promised_ me that it was a one-time thing! We talked about this, Blaine, we both agreed that it’s not-–”

“I was leaving the locker room after my work-out,” Blaine starts talking over him, making Kurt stop, “right before the football players came back from their practice, you know, like I always do.” He looks away, clenching his jaw. “I guess a few of them got sent to the locker rooms early or something, and just as I was getting my bag and heading for the door I heard them talking and-–”

Suddenly Kurt can see the anger and frustration in his eyes, in the way his eyebrows are furrowed. “And what?” he asks carefully.

“They were talking about you, Kurt,” Blaine bites out. He shakes his head, curls bouncing. “And the things they were saying, they were just–- I can’t even repeat them, I can’t. I don’t want to, they were so awful. They were just laughing and clapping each other’s backs, using those horrible words about you, you of all people, and I–- I couldn’t let them talk about you like that. I couldn’t. Not when you’re better than all of them put together.”

His voice goes painfully earnest by the end, eyes staring into Kurt like he’s pleading for him to understand. And in a way, Kurt does.

“Blaine,” he says slowly, tangling their hands together. “You don’t have to defend me like that. Trust me, whatever they said about me I’ve most likely heard it before. Accompanied by a dozen expressions that are even worse and even more hateful. I’m used to it.”

“But you shouldn’t be used to it,” Blaine argues, his eyes shining. “I can’t-– It breaks my heart to know that you’ve had to listen to those insults for years, that those-– _jerks_ think it’s somehow okay to use words like that about other people.”

Kurt leans up and places a kiss on Blaine’s lips, effectively stopping his words. Blaine’s eyes flutter closed, and Kurt can see a lone tear push its way down his cheek, leaving a wet trail over the bruised skin.

“I know,” he whispers fervently against Blaine’s lips. “I know, okay? I know it’s wrong and awful, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t get to me or hurt me.” Blaine blinks his eyes open and meets Kurt’s gaze. “But I can’t let it touch us, or what we have. Because we’re better than them. We will get out of this stupid little town, away from all the Neanderthals, and we will make it. Together.”

Blaine sighs and looks down, rubbing his thumb over Kurt’s hand. “I know that. I know that, Kurt, I do, but sometimes I just get so... angry at everything we have to deal with right now.”

Kurt sits down on the floor again and reaches for the antiseptic. “Me too,” he admits, dabbing the knuckles of Blaine’s other hand. “But it’s not worth getting into a fight. It breaks my heart to see you hurt like this and to know that it could’ve been even worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says. He leans down and rests his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder with a sigh. “It was stupid. I should’ve just walked away, but it was like a heat of the moment kind of thing, you know? I was still running high on boxing, and then hearing them say those things... It was stupid,” he repeats.

“Kind of, yeah. You can be an impulsive idiot sometimes.” Kurt hears Blaine huff out a laugh and turns his head to kiss his temple, nosing against his hair. “But you’re my impulsive idiot. And you were defending me, which I should thank you for, even though I don’t want you doing it again in the future. Now come on, lift up your head so I can clean those cuts on your face.”

Blaine straightens up and lets Kurt clean his split lip. It doesn’t look as bad once all the dried blood has been wiped away, and Kurt mentally sighs in relief. Blaine keeps staring at him with a soft smile on his face, the expression looking a bit silly against his messy curls and bruised face, probably something the people at school wouldn’t even be able to imagine when all they’ve seen is Blaine scowling or smirking.

When Kurt moves to tend to the cut on his forehead Blaine suddenly opens his mouth, the words falling out like they’re the easiest and most natural thing in the whole world:

“I love you.”

Kurt stops, turning to look at Blaine. He’s still smiling, but it’s not expectant -– it’s like he just wanted to say the words, needed to say them out loud and wouldn’t even mind if Kurt didn’t say them back.

They’ve never said it before. They’ve said plenty of other things, talked about their future and everything else into the small hours of the morning, but never this. Not yet. Kurt has known it, has felt it in his heart perhaps since the very beginning, but he’s never found the right moment, or has been afraid of putting too much of his heart on the line.

Except now his heart is beating loudly against his ribcage, warm and happy and full of love, and he has to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat, making him feel like he’s going to cry because he gets to call this impulsive, brave boy his. That after all the shit they’ve been through they still found each other.

“I love you too,” he manages to breathe out, leaning in and pressing their lips together. He can feel Blaine smiling into the kiss, and the corners of his own mouth turn up as well. He doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

“Just so you know,” Blaine mumbles when they finally break apart, “kissing with a split lip feels really weird.”

Kurt snorts. He has to peck Blaine’s lips one more time, just for that comment. “I can’t believe the first time we said I love you was in a bathroom,” he points out. “How romantic.”

Blaine laughs, and he finally looks like himself again, like the Blaine he always is with Kurt, smiling and happy and excited. “At least it wasn’t in a school bathroom?” he tries, grinning so hard that his eyes go all squinty even though it must hurt his bruise.

“I would’ve never forgiven you if you’d said it in a dirty boys’ bathroom,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “I might hang out under the bleachers, but I do still have some standards,” he adds in a haughty voice.

“Of course,” Blaine agrees. His hand has somehow ended up on Kurt’s side, sliding up and down in a way that makes Kurt feel warm all over. No one has ever touched or looked at him like Blaine does, and sometimes he feels like he could get drunk on it. Addicted. Or maybe he already is.

“Your mom’s not at home?” Kurt changes the subject, taking a small butterfly bandage and carefully placing it over the cut on Blaine’s forehead. Blaine only hums in response. “Do you want to stay the night? I’m sure my dad could be convinced if I told him how bravely my white knight in shining leather jacket defended me against the monstrous homophobes of McKinley?”

“You’re not some damsel in distress, though,” Blaine counters cheekily. “You would’ve done the same for me. Except maybe in a less violent way. Used your words instead of your fists.”

“So, what, we’re both white knights?” Kurt jokes as he stands up and dusts off his jeans. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Blaine. We’re not even remotely dressed for the part. Disney princes don’t have eyebrow piercings.”

Blaine shrugs. “So we’ll change some details. Make our own story.”

He says it so casually, but Kurt can tell he’s being serious. “I like that,” he replies, bending down to kiss him one more time.

Blaine accepts the kiss greedily, placing his hands on Kurt’s neck and pulling him closer, licking into his mouth. Kurt whines, fireworks exploding behind his eyes, and he has to force himself to break away before they get too far and he’s unable to speak or breathe anymore. Blaine usually has that effect on him.

“So you’re staying?” he gasps out, choosing to ignore how wrecked his voice sounds like already.

Blaine smiles at him. “Yeah. Always.” He strokes his thumb over the sensitive skin of Kurt’s neck, and oh, god, he’s doing the puppy eyes again. “Can I get some cuddles as well? Pretty please?”

“Of course you can.” Kurt rolls his eyes with fond exasperation and steps away. “Come on, let’s get out of this bathroom.”

“But Kuuuurt, it’s the place where we first confessed our true love!” Blaine laughs, but he still gets up and follows Kurt, closing the door behind them. They leave Blaine’s leather jacket on the bathroom floor, neither one of them really caring about it right now.

“You’re such a dork,” Kurt giggles. It makes him feel proud to know that he’s one of the few people who get to see Blaine like this, uninhibited and loose. He takes Blaine’s hand, swinging it between their bodies, and leads him into his room, barely glancing at the shirt he was working on still lying on his desk.

He has much more important things to look at and work on right now.

“But you still love me?” Blaine teases.

“Always,” Kurt replies with a grin, pulling Blaine on the bed. “Now let me show you how much.”


End file.
